


the key to happiness is low expectations

by Samsquatch



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Deadpool Thought Boxes, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Rated for Deadpool's Language, Self-Esteem Issues, Smitten Wade Wilson, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsquatch/pseuds/Samsquatch
Summary: The last thing Wade ever expected was for Spidey to ask him out on a date.“I’m gonna need ya to clarify somethin’ for me, baby boy. Are we havin’ abro-ment or amoment?"
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 28
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Boxes Key:
> 
> _White_  
>  **Yellow**

The last thing Wade ever expected was for Spidey to ask him out on a date.

He’d gone into their partnership with low expectations and even lower moral fortitude, fully expecting the altruistic webhead to call off their team-up within three days tops. And so it was with a healthy dose of self-deprecation and disbelief that he _laughed in Spidey’s face_ when the hero suggested they do dinner and a movie.

“Wade, what’s so funny?” Spidey huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, and whoo boy did that make his muscle definition pop, praise Valhalla-

_Ain’t no way that hot piece of ass actually wants to take you out on a date_

**Seriously, d’you think that shithead at the jewelry store hit him harder than we thunk?**

“Shut up,” Wade hissed under his breath, rooted to the spot.

“Wade?” Spidey murmured. Wade could tell he was getting fidgety, still waiting for a response other than the nervous snort-giggle that had erupted from the merc approximately a minute ago.

“Sorry, Webs. I think my thinker short-circuited.” Wade physically shook himself out of his stupor and stalked closer to the other man. To Spidey’s credit, he didn’t take a step back, just stood his ground and watched Deadpool calmly. It almost looked like he _enjoyed_ Wade being in such close proximity. “I’m gonna need ya to clarify somethin’ for me, baby boy. Are we havin’ a _bro_ -ment or a _mo_ ment? Because if it’s the former, then hell yeah. There’s this new taco truck parked two blocks down that has fan-fuckin’-tastic al pastor, and that hipster theater you like so much has a Rocky Horror special tomorrow night and _you know_ Dr. Frank N. Furter inspires me in more than one way-”

“And what if it’s the latter?” Spidey interrupted, effectively derailing Wade’s word train. White even mimicked the muffled _boom_ as the train hit the bottom of his brain canyon.

Wade’s jaw dropped. Spidey uncrossed his arms, hesitating for a moment before he reached out and loosely linked his fingers through Wade’s, pulling him closer. “Wade?” he prompted again.

**Holy shit he’s serious**

_Oh my god this is your chance to get up close and personal with that ass you better not blow it_

**You’re not gonna have that chance if you don’t fuckin’ say somethin’ you jackass**

“Pick you up at 7? Tomorrow?” Wade croaked, eyes fixated on the masked face that he’d obsessed over for years, never dreaming that something like this could happen.

Spidey chuckled softly and Wade’s brain immediately stowed the memory of that sound away. “Meet on our rooftop?” Spidey asked, a gloved thumb rubbing slow circles over Wade’s left palm. Wade shivered at the feeling and nodded dumbly, the words ‘our rooftop’ blinking in giant neon lights behind his pupils.

Spidey let go of his hand and backed up towards the ledge, still watching him. “See you then. Goodnight, Wade.”

Before Wade could even muster up a response, Spidey had stepped over the edge of the building and swung off, a red and blue blur against the city skyline.

Wade watched him helplessly as he muttered, “Daddy’s in trouble.”

By 3 PM the next day, Wade had gone through four mental breakdowns, sifted through every piece of clothing in his closet three times, and almost canceled the date six times. Needless to say, he was a nervous wreck.

_Oh yeah, that get-up is perfect_

**Really highlights your _ass_ ets, if ya know what I mean**

Wade stared at himself in the full-length mirror hanging from the back of his bedroom door, critically eyeing the ruffles of his French maid costume (complete with the cap) that he’d had custom made in Tokyo. The fishnets and the knee-high, patent leather boots offset the red and black of his suit perfectly.

“It’s not too much?” Wade wondered aloud, posing provocatively.

**He’ll probably run screaming in the other direction when he sees you, but at least you’ll have a stellar view of his ass while he does**

_What he said_

Wade groaned and began undressing, even pulling off his leather suit until he was stripped down to his underwear in the middle of his room. “Why am I even trying? Spidey-babe’s gonna take one look at this mug fully unmasked and upchuck everything he’s eaten in the last week. And then I won’t get to fight baddies with him anymore!”

_Drama, thy name is Wade_

**Pull yourself together--or as together as you can be--you psycho freak**

“That’s it, I’m calling Weasel,” Wade snarled, already speed dialing the number he knew by heart.

Weasel picked up after two rings, the noise at Sister Margaret’s humming in the background. “Mr. Pool, to what do I owe this displeasure?” he drawled.

“Spidey wants to date me,” Wade blurted out. Weasel was silent for longer than Wade deemed polite, and then he began guffawing.

“Have you actually managed to sexually harass the poor kid into submission? Fucking Christ, Wade. How the hell did you manage to pull that off?”

Wade scowled. “First of all, he was 19 when I met him! Deadpool does not do jailbait, no siree. I’d sooner snip my schlong off with rusty scissors than hit on a kid. Second of all, _he_ asked _me_ , not the other way around! Third of all, fuck you!”

Weasel hummed contemplatively. “So why, may I ask, are you busting a nut over the object of your affections potentially reciprocating your feelings?”

“Because he hasn’t seen my fuckin’ face yet,” Wade groaned, slumping onto his bed with a heavy sigh. “He’s probably gorgeous and I’m Frankenstein’s fuckin’ monster crossed with that jazz-handsing shitbag from Pan’s fuckin’ Labyrinth!”

Weasel snorted on the other end of the line. “From what I’ve heard you say about the kid--and seriously, it’s a lot. You may have an actual obsession, you should get that checked out--I don’t think he’s the type of person to turn you away just because you’re hideous.”

“Gee, thanks,” Wade grumbled. “Really helpin’ out with the self-esteem issue here.”

“Buddy, I hate to break it to you, but there isn’t a single form of therapy out there that could help you with your shit,” Weasel pointed out. He waited for a beat to see if Wade would argue, and when Wade said nothing, he continued. “When’s your date with the kid, anyway?”

Wade shot a glance at the clock. 3:34 PM. “Three and a half hours,” he replied.

“Then what the fuck are you doing talking to me?” Weasel berated. “Go and find some way to make your… uh, _you_ less sickening to look at.”

The call dropped before Wade could make a sassy retort, and he took no shame in slamming the phone into the mattress and vigorously giving it the middle finger. Weasel was right, though. Maybe a shower would be a good place to start.

Wade was five minutes early. Anyone who knew the merc well would know that this was a massive indicator of how seriously he was taking this dating business because Deadpool didn’t _do_ ‘on time.’ He liked taking ‘fashionably late’ and turning it into ‘fashionably no-show-ing’ because fuck expectations and the people who put them on him. But this was important. _Spidey_ was important.

He’d been tempted to play up the crazy factor and show up in a full Jessica Rabbit ensemble, wig included, but he shed the gown and heels last minute and opted for something more low-key. He had no idea if Spidey was showing up in the suit or not, and maybe this was something they should have discussed beforehand or texted about, but Wade had always been a sucker for surprises.

So there he was, dressed in civvies with only his mask on, perched on the ledge of _their_ rooftop with his thoughts racing a hundred miles a minute and the boxes absolutely screaming at him, when suddenly, he heard the soft thump of someone landing on the roof behind him.

Wade rose unsteadily, his mind abruptly blank and the boxes uncharacteristically quiet. “Hey, baby boy. Looks like I beat you here,” he said, injecting as much confidence as possible into his words. He kept his back turned, nerves zinging through his entire body.

“Hope you weren’t waiting long,” Spidey said, slightly breathless from his trip. “I, uh, brought you something.”

Wade’s ears picked up on the teasing note in the other man’s voice and, working up every ounce of courage he had, turned to look at him.

Nothing could have prepared him. It was like a punch to the gut seeing the unmasked face of his favorite hero. Wavy brown hair, high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and gorgeous brown eyes stared warmly at him, a smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

“Holy breathtaking, Batman,” Wade whispered, although clearly not quietly enough as Spidey picked up on it and laughed, his nose wrinkling slightly as he did. Wade groaned at the sight, incapable of handling the gorgeousness that was radiating at him like the fucking sun. “How are you real?” Wade moaned.

Peter’s smile widened into a grin. “Save some of your material for later, Casanova.”

Wade sucked in a fortifying breath and stepped forward, holding both hands up to stop whatever Spidey might have said next. “Webs, before we go any further with this, I- uh, I want to give you an out.” Spidey went eerily still. “Listen, I know you’re a good person. You’re as pure as a Golden Retriever puppy sent directly from the fuckin’ heavens, but that doesn’t mean you have to force yourself to be physically attracted to me, and trust me when I tell ya it’s gonna take _effort_ to find anything about this mean mug even _remotely_ attractive-”

“Wade-” Spidey tried to cut in.

“ _No_!” Wade insisted. “Listen, I want you to look at me, _really_ look at me, and then decide if you still want to do this. If by some miracle you can see past this monstrosity and still want to go on this date, I’ll be as happy as a fucking clam. But if you don’t, no harm done. I would rather you let me down easy now than get me invested and break my heart further down the line, because _you know_ I have obsessive tendencies, and baby boy, you’re at the top of my obsessions list.”

Wade watched as Spidey considered his words carefully, and then nodded. “Okay, but I’m only doing this because it’ll make you comfortable.”

Spidey stepped forward then, moving slowly like he was approaching a frightened animal. Wade forced himself to remain still as Spidey drew closer, their chests nearly touching. Gentle fingers lifted the edges of his mask and tugged upwards until it pulled free. Wade kept his eyes shut, unwilling to watch the disgust creep into Spidey’s eyes.

He startled at the first touch of gentle fingers to his cheek.

“Wade, look at me,” Spidey asked.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. That perfect face ( _fuck me, he has freckles_ ) was scant inches from his own. Spidey was smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You haven’t ralphed yet, so that’s a good sign,” Wade said slowly.

“Wade,” Spidey said with a low chuckle, “I’ve seen you unmasked before.”

Wade jerked back in surprise, but Spidey’s hand on his shoulder kept him from moving too far. “You- but- when?!”

Spidey sighed and lifted a hand, counting off the occasions. “The first time was when we were fighting that mutant scorpion in Queens and you took its stinger straight to the chest. You couldn’t breathe because of the venom so I had to take your mask off to help with airflow. I guess you don’t remember because you were mostly out of it. The second time is when the X-Men were helping us out and that tornado Storm whipped up ripped your mask off. The third, fourth, and fifth times were during our post-patrol meals here. You’re really not as sneaky as you think.”

Wade gasped in mock offense at the slight against his ninja prowess, but his focus was mostly on the fact that Spidey had _seen him_ more than once and still asked him out.

**You’re never gonna find anyone with a higher bullshit tolerance than Webs**

_Don’t fuck this up or you’ll be doomed to jacking off for the rest of your eternal life_

“So now that we’ve established that I like your face,” Spidey continued, “can we get this show on the road? Rocky Horror starts at 8:15 and I’ve got plans for us before then.”

Wade grinned, self-consciousness temporarily flung out of the proverbial window. “Before we do, I have one last question for you, baby boy.”

“Hmm?” Spidey turned to him with a warm smile, waiting.

“What’s your name?”

Spidey threw his head back and laughed. “I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself. Properly, I mean.” He beamed and stepped closer to Wade once more. “My name is Peter. Peter Parker.”

Wade swooped into a low bow, capturing one of Peter’s hands and pressing a chaste kiss to his knuckles. “Wade Winston Wilson, at your service.”

A light flush crept over Peter-- _Peter! Spidey’s name is Peter!_ \--’s cheeks, and Wade idly wondered if it spread elsewhere during… other activities. He was pulled out of those thoughts when Peter hopped up on his toes with a soft exclamation.

“Oh! I forgot to show you what I got for you!”

He jogged over to the other side of the roof and bent over the edge, retrieving something he’d webbed to the rough brick. Wade’s eyes widened when he produced what looked like a bouquet wrapped in black and red paper.

“I know flowers aren’t your thing, so I got you something a little more appropriate,” Peter said with a mischievous glimmer in his eye. He held the bouquet so Wade couldn’t see what it was, then presented it with a flourish once he was closer.

Wade stared for a long moment before bursting into raucous laughter, bending over to plant his hands on his knees. Peter grinned, delighted by the reaction he’d elicited from the merc.

He had fashioned flower stems out of bronze metal, complete with decorative leaves, and perched prettily at the top in place of flowers were _frag grenades_. Wade was absolutely besotted with the gorgeous, ridiculous, genius, hilarious man before him.

“Do you like it?” Peter asked cheekily, sidling closer.

Wade carefully lifted the bouquet into his own hands, openly admiring the handiwork that had gone into it. “Where did you even find these?"

Peter shrugged with forced nonchalance. "Nicked them off some dumbasses I caught two weeks ago."

Wade forced himself to focus on anything other than the implication that Peter had been planning this out for two weeks, the thrill it sent through his heart slightly dangerous. "This bouquet is like our chemistry, Spidey. Explosive,” Wade quipped with a waggle of his hairless brows.

Peter snorted but didn’t deny it, edging even closer. “I wonder if our physical chemistry will match up,” he teased.

Heat snaked its way up Wade’s spine in a pleasant tingle. “Why, Mr. Parker, you haven’t even bought me dinner yet!” he retorted in a near-perfect impression of Blanche Devereaux.

“Do pardon my forwardness, Mr. Wilson. Allow me to rectify the situation,” Peter played along, matching his accent easily. He hopped up onto the ledge and held a hand out to Wade, bright smile and brighter eyes focused on him. “Coming?”

Wade’s heart skipped a beat. He was in so much trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to post this entire fic as a single chapter, but these boys deserve only the best, so I'm going to take the extra time to perfect the date chapter. This is also my first time writing these characters, so I hope I did them justice.
> 
> Thoughts, comments, and suggestions always appreciated! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned, this chapter is light on the humor and heavy on the fluff and angst.

Wade was certain he would never get tired of swinging through the city on ~~Spidey’s~~ Peter’s back. He had his arms locked over Peter’s chest and his legs clamped tight around Peter’s waist, doing his best impersonation of a human backpack. Peter was quiet and focused, navigating through less crowded and dimly lit streets to get them to their destination. Ordinarily, Wade would have tried to fill the silence with whatever thoughts came through his head, but in that moment, he took full advantage of the opportunity to relish every point of contact between their bodies.

Spidey had always been a tad bit smaller than other run-of-the-mill superheroes. He was like a compact ball of unrestrained power, using his size to aid his agility in fights and deliver knockout blows with ease. However, up close and personal, it was hard to feel any discernible difference.

Unfortunately, Wade didn’t have the luxury of further examining the body underneath him as Peter gracefully landed in a dark alley, one block over from the taco truck Wade had waxed poetic over the night before.

“I think I could massacre an entire platter of tacos right now,” Peter groaned.

Wade slipped off his back as slow as humanly possible, _respectfully_ running his hands over every inch of Peter’s body that he could justifiably touch. If Peter noticed his intentions, he either chose to ignore them or secretly enjoyed it.

Judging by the goosebumps dotting the back of Peter’s neck, it was the latter.

**Methinks our little spider wants in on the Deadpool action**

_Spidey’s not the only one who can shoot white, sticky gunk out of his body_

Wade winced audibly, grimacing as he ripped his mask off and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Behave,” he reprimanded quietly.

“The boxes giving you trouble?” Peter asked with a slight smirk.

Wade narrowed his eyes playfully. The little tease knew _exactly_ what was going on in Wade’s head. “Nothing I wasn’t already thinking myself, Petey-pie,” he said, intentionally pitching his voice lower and allowing his eyes to roam freely. Peter flushed and Wade cooed internally, encouraged by how easily he could draw a reaction out of the man.

“So, tacos?” Wade asked with a grin, giving them a break from the mounting tension that hung heavily in the air between them.

Not fifteen minutes later, the two men were sitting on rickety stools at a flimsy plastic table next to the taco truck. Both had a small mountain of foil-wrapped tacos sitting in front of them as they dug in with gusto.

“Oh fuck, this is heaven,” Peter moaned after his first bite of al pastor.

“Hear that, Victor?” Wade called out to the chef.

A stocky, mustached man leaned out of the truck’s window with an enormous grin. “I heard it, _cabrón_! Now eat quick and get the fuck out of here before you scare away my customers!”

Wade barked out a laugh, cheerfully flipping him the middle finger as he dove back into his food.

Peter watched the exchange with amusement. “So you come here often?” he asked. Wade stopped chewing to leer at him and Peter huffed and shoved him playfully, grinning despite himself. “You know that’s not what I meant. The two of you seem to know each other well.”

Wade swallowed the rest of his bite before responding, his voice growing quieter. “His family used to own a restaurant in the Bronx. Best chimichangas in the country. I would swear on my life, but we both know that doesn’t mean much,” Wade quipped. He hesitated before continuing. “Well, Victor’s wife got sick and the medical bills started piling up. Don’t get me started on the healthcare system in this back asswards country. We wouldn’t have these issues in Canada, baby boy. Victor got in with some bad people. Loan sharks, the type who’ll sell your organs without a second thought to get their money back.” He heaved a sigh. “I came by one day and found the place torn apart, blood everywhere, and Victor knocked out in the walk-in freezer. So I tracked ‘em down.”

Wade went silent, unwilling to continue the story. It had all happened before he met Peter, back when unaliving was his default approach to handling scumbaggery. Peter seemed to understand, but instead of the swift judgment Wade had been expecting, a warm hand slid onto his shoulder.

“Hey, nobody’s marching you to the guillotine,” Peter assured. Wade met his gaze and found nothing but sincerity. “I may not like what you did, but I can’t argue that it wasn’t for a good reason. It’s not my place to punish you for decisions you made in the past, Wade.”

Wade smiled tentatively and Peter returned it easily. “I haven’t unalived anyone--intentionally at least--in nearly a year, and trust me when I say some of those fuckers _deserved_ a katana to the gut.”

“I’m proud of you for that,” Peter said firmly, his sudden intensity a balm to Wade’s creeping doubts.

They went back to eating and the silence lasted for another moment or two until a glob of salsa unceremoniously splattered over the front of Peter’s pristine sweater.

“Shit,” Peter muttered, hastily wiping off the mess with a handful of napkins.

Without a second thought, Wade shrugged off his jacket and whipped his hoodie over his head, leaving himself in a threadbare grey t-shirt. “Here,” he offered, holding out the soft garment for Peter to take.

Wide-eyed, Peter accepted it. “Thank you,” he murmured, pulling it on with zero hesitation. Wade shifted his focus back to his tacos, but he didn’t miss when Peter ducked his nose into the fabric for a sneaky inhale. Wade had no clue what Peter could be smelling, but evidently, he liked it given the soft smile on his face as he continued eating.

_Precious angel boy_

**Can we keep him?**

_Can we keep him forever?_

**Forever-ever?**

“Shut it,” Wade muttered, silencing the boxes.

Once their taco mountains had been destroyed, they bid Victor goodnight and began their walk to the theater. The night had gotten colder, a sharp wind cutting through the streets and carrying the chill of the approaching winter with it.

Peter gave Wade a sidelong glance as they made their way through throngs of people. “Aren’t you cold? I can give you your hoodie back.”

Wade shook his head. “My natural body temp’s like lava. Besides, you look better in it, Petey-pie,” he said with a saucy wink.

“Flirt,” Peter accused with a laugh. “So why were you wearing three layers? Aren’t you hot?”

“Aww, stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” Wade simpered. Peter gave him a flat look that was ruined by the soft laugh that escaped his lips unbidden. Wade straightened up, more serious this time. “My skin’s pretty sensitive. I layer soft stuff so I’m not tempted to skin myself. Trust me, I tried it once and it was not a walk in the park.”

Peter looked vaguely green around the edges as he no doubt pictured the exact scenario Wade described. Shaking his head, he asked, “Would you let me take some skin samples? I can probably make something at the lab to help with that.”

Wade gave him a sidelong glance as he smoothly dodged a clumsy businessman, moving back to Peter’s side when he was no longer at risk of having boiling coffee spilled down his front. “You don’t have to do that for me, baby boy,” he murmured.

Peter shrugged. “It’s really not a hassle. Besides, if it helps you, I’d love to do it.”

Wade’s heart thumped dangerously. “That would be real sweet of you,” he replied.

Peter beamed at him, walking closer so their arms brushed with each step. The easy affection and happiness stole Wade’s breath away, and he had to force himself not to stare at the gorgeous man walking next to him in case anyone else tried to spill coffee on him in passing.

They spent the rest of the walk taking turns picking out random passers-by and guessing their life stories. By the time they had reached the cinema’s marquee, both had tears in their eyes from laughing so hard and were attracting more than a few disapproving stares.

“I’ll get the tickets!” Peter declared, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his pants.

Wade stopped him with a hand over his. “I’ve got more money than Scrooge McDuck and Rich Uncle Pennybags combined, Petey-pie. I’ve got this.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at Wade, challenging him. Without another word, he ducked inside first, beelining for the concession stand before Wade could finish paying for their seats. By the time Wade joined him, he had his arms full of snacks and drinks for the show, a smug grin playing across his face.

“Shoulda known you’d do that,” Wade admitted, grinning helplessly. “What did you get us?”

Peter effortlessly handed over half his haul without jostling or spilling anything, showing off his reflexes and agility. “I got you extra buttery popcorn with M&M’s and Milk Duds on top, a pack of Sour Patch Kids, and a root beer float with an extra scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. Did I miss anything?”

Wade gaped openly at him. Peter had _remembered all his favorite movie snacks_.

“I could kiss you right now,” he gushed.

Peter flushed red, his smile becoming something more private and pleased. “I would let you.”

**Precious**

_Angel boy_

**Don’t fuck this up**

_Or we’ll fuck you up_

Wade reached out and brushed his fingertips against a pink cheek, encouraged by the way Peter’s eyelashes fluttered at the contact. “Baby boy,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Peter’s cheeks darkened even further, his pupils visibly dilating. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “We, uh... we should head in for the movie,” he said, although everything about his body language and tone of voice made it sound like watching a movie was at the bottom of the list of things he wanted to do, with Wade being at the tippity top.

“After you,” Wade said, stepping back slightly to give them some breathing room.

Peter looked up at him through dark lashes and smiled, brushing the entire left side of his body against Wade’s as he moved past him to approach the ticket taker. Wade shut his eyes for a brief moment to relish the touch before following eagerly, handing the bored-looking teenager their ticket stubs.

Peter led the way, Wade’s eyes firmly glued to his backside as he shuffled past rows of chairs to the very back of the auditorium, securing two seats in the far corner for them. Wade knew this was more out of Peter’s concern for Wade’s comfort (as well as a vantage point in case of baddies) than his desire for sneaky make-outs in the darkened room, and his heart swelled a little at the obvious show of affection and care.

They nestled in for Rocky Horror and began demolishing their snack haul, and Wade couldn’t stop being surprised by how _easy_ it all felt. He had yet to feel uncomfortable at any point the entire night, and as someone who’d been put through the fucking wringer his entire life, the whole experience felt surreal. When would the other shoe drop? When would the baddies burst in and start shooting?

He had tensed up without realizing it, but Peter, Spidey senses and all, noticed immediately. He made a show out of raising the armrest between them and snuggling into Wade’s side, his head resting in the crook of Wade’s neck.

Calm washed over Wade instantaneously. He breathed in deeply, taking in Peter’s scent, an intoxicating blend of sandalwood, vanilla, popcorn, and body heat.

They passed the rest of the film that way, Peter’s laughter vibrating through Wade’s body each time something amused him. Wade was entranced. When the lights in the theater flicked back on as the credits began to roll, it was jarring.

Peter pulled away from him slowly, looking like he resented the distance between them. Wade forced himself to grin, tamping down the irrepressible urge to kiss the breath out of the other man. “Shall we?”

They ended up lingering outside the marquee, neither willing to end the night just yet. “I had a great time with you tonight,” Peter finally said, meeting Wade’s eyes full-on, as if to dispel any doubts Wade may have had about his enjoyment.

Wade had to duck his head to hide the full force of his grin, warmth blooming in his chest. “Me too, Petey-pie.”

“So when can I see you again?” Peter rushed out, that enticing flush once again pinking his cheeks.

“We have patrol with the horny bastard tomorrow night,” Wade answered.

Peter laughed, shaking his head. “You know Daredevil hates it when you call him that. And no, uh… I wasn’t talking about patrols.”

**He’s talking about a date you gigantic fucking moron**

_Can we start the second date now? No? Too soon?_

“Oh,” Wade said weakly. Peter scuffed his shoe on the pavement, nerves evident. Wade took a deep breath and stepped closer to him so their chests were nearly brushing. Peter’s head jerked up so their eyes met, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Just say the word and I’ll clear my schedule for you, baby boy,” Wade said.

A few seconds passed between them, the noises of the city fading in the background until it was just the two of them suspended in a quiet, shared moment. Peter exhaled, and in one smooth movement, he tipped his chin up and pressed his lips against Wade’s, eyes fluttering shut.

Fireworks burst behind Wade’s eyelids and the boxes screamed incoherently, coaxing him on. Peter moved away slightly, eyes still closed, a smile curving at the edges of his lips. Wade sucked in a ragged breath and dove back in for another kiss, his arms winding around Peter’s waist and tugging him closer.

Peter sighed into his mouth, his hands coming to rest on Wade’s chest and then sliding up to wind behind his neck. His lips parted invitingly, and Wade accepted the opportunity to deepen the kiss, brushing his tongue over Peter’s full bottom lip.

A sharp wolf whistle cut through the air and forced them to pull away from each other. Wade snarled at the interruption, whipping his head around to find the fucker.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna choke someone with their own spleen,” he growled.

Peter laughed, dragging Wade’s head down for a quick peck on the lips. “Cool it, Pool. Nobody needs to get gutted today. Besides, we have plenty of time to practice,” Peter teased, biting his lip.

Wade groaned, dropping his forehead onto Peter’s shoulder. “Practice implies there’s gonna be a show, baby boy. And as much as I enjoy puttin’ on a performance, I don’t particularly like the idea of sharin’ you.”

Peter’s arms wound around his waist and pulled him in for a tight hug. “Hmm, perhaps a private performance then. Just you and I.”

Wade lifted his head to look at him, the implications behind Peter’s words sending a delightful heat up his spine.

**Spidey wants to do the do!**

_He wants to do the do with you!_

“Wanna do a breakfast date after tomorrow’s patrol?” Wade blurted out. “There’s this amazing diner that makes pancakes even better than my own, and that’s sayin’ something-”

Peter placed gentle fingers over Wade’s lips, cutting off his rambling. “I’d love to,” he said softly, leaning in for another kiss.

Wade had never been a very optimistic person, and he doubted he ever would be, but for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long to get the date chapter posted! Life has a way of getting difficult at the most inopportune times. As always, comments, critiques, and suggestions are most welcome! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I anticipate one or two more before this story comes to an end. :)


End file.
